


To Stand and Watch

by YamaHikari



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 12:10:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20620814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YamaHikari/pseuds/YamaHikari
Summary: A week ago, Father told him she loves it when he visits and tells her about his day. It could be anything: something he learned, the games he played with Wolt, anything, and she would love it.





	1. To Stand and Watch

**Author's Note:**

> Another idea I've had for a while. I wrote it rather quickly, so I'd appreciate some feedback on how to improve.

A week ago, Father told him she loves it when he visits and tells her about his day. It could be anything: something he learned, the games he played with Wolt, anything, and she would love it. 

Roy wanted to believe him, but when he talked, Mother did not reply. She didn’t even move. If not for her open eyes, he would’ve thought she was sleeping. Sometimes, her eyelids flickered ever so slightly, and Roy wondered if that meant she could hear him. Even if she couldn’t, he enjoyed having someone to talk to, someone who wouldn’t brush him off or lecture him. 

Today, Roy felt eager to talk to his mother about what he and Wolt found in the gardens today. While they saw plenty of bugs, they discovered a trove of striped pebbles in the pond, polished by the flowing waters. He rubbed the smooth surface of the stone in his pocket, hoping Mother would find it interesting. She might acknowledge it in her own subtle way, or she might not, but the thought of sharing still brought Roy some happiness.

Once Roy found her chambers, he paused in front of the towering wooden doors. Sometime in the past year, the doctor ordered Mother be moved closer to the medical wing. Along with her health, her mobility had declined enough to keep her within a short distance of help. Father objected, as he wanted her as close to him as possible, but he couldn’t deny the truth; his duties kept him too far from her side too often.

Pushing the dark spiral of thoughts from his mind, Roy knocked on the hard wood before turning the knob. The door creaked open, allowing orange light from the sunset to stream into the dark room. Roy peaked in, trying to catch a glimpse of his mother’s bedridden form. However, as the room opened, Roy started to hear noises that instilled a deep, disturbed feeling within him.

“...Mother?”

Roy could hear ghost-like moans and the shifting of fabric on fabric. Though the sounds scared him, he rushed to the window and pulled open the drapes, illuminating the room further.

There were no ghosts. Only Mother. 

The sight of her lying sick and prone always inspirited Roy with a sense of anxiety, but what he saw in that moment struck him with a horrible, horrible fear. 

She tossed and turned about her bed, mouth wide, gasping for air. Her eyes roved the ceiling wildly as her hands clutched at the sheets. The light glistened on her cold sweat which highlighted the deep shadows of gaunt, withering skin. 

_ What’s happening?! _

Roy rushed to her side, “Mother?! What’s wrong?!” He grabbed her arm-

“AAAAUUH!”

Her sudden cry sent Roy scrambling back, clutching his hand like it had been burned. She began to wheeze, each breath punctuated by awful groaning, bony hands clawing at the bed with more desperation. 

_ She’s hurting… _

When Roy was a bit younger, he recalled, he got a splinter from tree-climbing. Father tried to remove it, but when he squeezed and scratched at the stubborn thing, Roy started screaming and fighting. Then Mother came and held him, patting his head with one hand and squeezing his uninjured hand with the other.

_ “There there, it will be alright. Focus on my hand, not the splinter, and it will be over in a moment... There, see! You did it!” _

_ Mother needs help... _

Trembling, Roy took a step forward, hand outstretched towards hers. The moment he grasped it, she latched on with all the strength she had. Though the pressure hurt, Roy kept his grip.

“Aaahh…!” 

When she cried out again, Roy almost let go, but she clung to his hand too strongly. Her skin felt clammy and wax-like against his.

He reached his other quivering hand towards her head and began smoothing her light blue hair.

“It-it will be al-alright,” His voice wavered. “Focus on my-my hand…”

Her cries and gasps would not subside.

Roy’s eyes filled with tears. _ What do I do?! It’s not working, I’m scared! _

“It’ll stop hurting soon, I-I promise.”

“Huuahhh!”

“Please, Mommy! You-you have to focus on my hand! It’ll feel better!”

“Gaahahhh!”

“Please!!”

One gasp caught in her throat, sending her into a fit of coughing and screaming.

_ It’s getting worse! _

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Roy had broken down sobbing, one shaking hand left resting on the side of his mother’s face. Each cough, each scream, sent fearful shudders through his entire body.

“Roy!”

Keeping his hand in his mother’s, he whirled around to face the door. There stood Father, a horrified look on his face. When their eyes met, Father broke out of his trance and rushed forward, scooping up Roy into his arms and simultaneously tearing Roy’s hand from his mother’s. 

Roy’s cries returned with a vengeance as he clung to his father’s tunic.

“Mommy’s hurting!”

Father began rubbing his back, “I know Roy, I know. Let’s go get the doctor and he’ll make everything better.” With Roy still in his arms, he rushed out the door

“I tried to help, but it got worse!”

“Roy, Roy, it’s not your fault. She’s just really sick.” 

Despite Father’s words, Roy felt even worse, though he didn’t understand why. 

He stayed in his father’s arms, shaking and crying, while Father spoke to the doctor in a quick, nervous tone. Once the doctor left, Father went to Roy’s room and sat heavily on the bed. Only when Roy began to calm did Father lay him on the bed. 

“How about we get ready for bed? I can tell you a bedtime story, if you like.”

“Father…?”

“Yes, Roy?”

Roy looked directly into his eyes.

"Will Mother be okay?"

Father's expression fell for a moment, looking sad and uncertain. But, he forced a smile.

"Of course."

Roy wanted to believe him.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliwood grieves for his wife and son.

Rebecca rushed through the halls of Castle Pherae then burst into Roy’s room, "Lord Eliwood!"

"Shhh!" Eliwood hissed. "He just fell asleep."

Sure enough, Roy laid sleeping in his bed, one hand wrapped in Eliwood’s. From the doorway, Rebecca could see how puffy his eyelids were. 

“...The doctor has given Lady Ninian sedatives. She’s asleep for now.”

Eliwood’s grip on Roy tightened, as well as the expression on his face. He looked strained, tired mentally, emotionally, and physically. Despite being a young man in his twenties, the lines set into his face made him appear a decade older.

Keeping his eyes on Roy, he asked, “Did the doctor have anything else to say?”

“As he said before, there’s nothing else to be done,” Rebecca looked at the floor where she caught sight of a hand-sewn dragon plushie. She knelt to pick it up and observe it before turning back to meet Eliwood’s despairing gaze.

“I’m sorry, Lord Eliwood, but she only has a few more days.”

For a moment, Eliwood froze, eyes widening in shock. But he knew. He always knew. For more than a year now, what he dreaded drew nearer and nearer. 

Yet hearing it now felt like he was hearing it for the first time.

He drew Roy’s hand up to his chest and quietly wept over him.

“How do I tell him? He’s so young; will he understand?”

Rebecca could not respond, for she had no words. 

“When I found him, he was holding her hand. He stood and watched his own mother being torn apart from the inside.” Eliwood shook his head, shoulders quaking, “He should never have to see that. I-I…”

A sob burst out of his throat. “I don’t know what to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, criticism is welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based heavily on my own experience.  
When I was 11, I saw my father and sister trying to change my bedridden mother's clothes. I held her hand as she cried out in pain whenever they tried to move her.
> 
> It's a strange thing to look back on. When it's one's own experience, it doesn't feel tragic or traumatic, it's just another part of life. Stepping back to write something like this reminds me how truly horrible it was, even if I no longer cry about it.
> 
> Anyway, perhaps I'm projecting too much.
> 
> Despite my own background, any feedback is welcome. Don't let my relation to the topic discourage you from criticism.


End file.
